


The Legally Mandated First Date Experience

by Fríálfurinn (DangerousCommieSubversive)



Series: The Role-Swap AU [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, and they have neither tact nor morals, but they do have a checklist, intimidating children, rated t just to soothe my own nerves, really very clean, they continue to be demons of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9033200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/Fr%C3%AD%C3%A1lfurinn
Summary: “This may have escaped your notice, but mechanics who sleep on park benches and spend all their time hanging out with grade schoolers aren’t really desirable romantic prospects.”Or, a tale in which the well-meaning children of Lazy Town terrorize their two favorite people into going on a date, and it goes…surprisingly well, all things considered.





	1. A First Time For Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is, of course, a follow-up to [Riveted](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8905825), and continues to be set in [Nico's](http://crystal-caper.tumblr.com) spectacular role-swap AU.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie Meanswell has some very clear ideas about how things are supposed to work. And a checklist.

Stephanie found Sportacus in the park.

The spot she picked didn’t have any corners, but he felt _distinctly_ cornered anyway. It was something about how she was wrapped up against the cold; the sight of her narrowed eyes peering out from between scarf and hat was more intimidating than anything else he’d ever seen, and he’d wrestled a _bear_ once. She had a stare like an industrial drill.

“Hi?” he said, clinging firmly to the idea that he was _not_ nervous, and even if he _was,_ he wasn’t going to let _her_ find out. “What’s going on, Stephanie?”

“You have to take him on a date.”

That was not what he’d been expecting. “Excuse me?”

“Robbie! You have to take him on a _date._ You’re not just allowed to be boyfriends without going on even one date. There are _rules._ ”

“We’re not—what? What rules? What are you even _talking_ about?”

“You can’t hide from _me,_ Robbie looked really happy when I saw him after he fell into the pond and he wouldn’t tell me why. _I_ know what’s going on when grown-ups look like that.” She folded her arms, and managed to convey a severe frown even with most of her face concealed. “Besides, _you’ve_ liked _him_ for _ages._ ”

Sportacus stared at her for a moment and then leaned down so he could speak quietly. “So what if I have?”

“If you’re boyfriends then you have to take him on a date, I’m pretty sure that’s a law.”

“There is _no_ such law.”

 _She_ leaned in closer. “There isn’t one _now._ Uncle Milford will sign _anything_ Ms. Busybody hands him.”

There was a long pause before he said, “I’m going to tell your uncle you’re a thug.”

“I’m going to write to your mother and tell her that you have a boyfriend and she hasn’t even met him.”

“You are the most terrifying nine-year-old I’ve ever met,” he said, suppressing a sudden desire to adopt her.

“Uncle Milford says I’m a lot like my mom.”

“Is she a mob boss?”

“She’s an Olympic gold medalist in shot put and hammer throw.”

Sportacus shuddered involuntarily. “That also makes sense. And stop glaring at me, ok? I’ll do it. I’m guessing you have some ideas about _what_ kind of a date I’m supposed to take him on?”

She was smiling. He could tell. And her eyebrows were doing things. It was an _evil_ smile. “In _fact,_ Stingy has a whole _checklist._ ”

* * *

 

Robbie had been working on Dr. Packet’s car for two hours, and it was more fun than he’d had in some time. His garage was quiet apart from soft music that _he’d_ chosen, and the problem with the car was interesting and time-consuming but not actually difficult to fix. Of course, later he knew he’d have to talk to Pixel about making upgrades to the family vehicles without getting permission from his fathers, but that was an ongoing conversation that had at one time or another involved every appliance in the house. Pixel had a lot of ingenuity and skill, but very little forethought. He’d grow into that eventually, he was only ten, and in the meantime Dr. and Mr. Packet had Robbie’s number on speed-dial.

He hummed in satisfaction as he tightened the last bolt and pulled himself out from under the car.

And stopped still head and shoulders beneath it. He’d hit…legs. In between _his_ legs. Someone had come into the garage and was standing between his pulled-up knees, and he was fairly sure he knew who it was. “Sportacus?”

“Hey, nerd.” There was less disdain in his voice than Robbie was used to, and more affection. It was very strange. “Pixel said you’d dragged this junk heap down here.”

“It’s a pleasure to work on, it’s actually a very nice car.” There wasn’t really any way to get out from _under_ it further with Sportacus blocking him like this. “Were you…looking for me?”

“I was going to make you eat lunch.”

“Oh, you weren’t coming to _tell_ me to eat lunch. You’re going straight to _making_ me eat lunch.”

“If I don’t make you do it then you’ll just make excuses and not eat for another three hours and then you’ll just have cake. We’re going to have lunch, and you’re going to eat fruit and have some kind of protein that hasn’t been fried or covered in orange sauce. Lying on the floor like that’s going to mess with your back, why don’t you have a _mat?_ ”

“You know, I’d _love_ to stop lying on the floor, but there seems to be something preventing me from getting up. Maybe if you’d take a step back…?” There was a rustling sound as Sportacus moved out of the way, and Robbie pulled himself out from under the car and sat up, wincing as his back popped. He rolled his neck. “I was _planning_ on having a non-fried protein.”

“Was it going to be on top of a pizza?”

Robbie thought longingly of the frozen pizza he’d been planning to cook once he was done working on the car and said, “Listen, I’m perfectly happy with the way I live my life.” He tried to stand up, lost his balance, and would have fallen backwards against the car if Sportacus hadn’t grabbed the front of his jacket. “Just because we’re…I _like_ pizza.”

Sportacus didn’t look impressed. And he hadn’t let go of Robbie’s jacket. “The kids said they were going to make lunch for us.” He turned and headed out of the garage, towing Robbie behind him. “I think it’s sandwiches with low-sodium turkey and Swiss cheese, and some sectioned oranges. There might be some kind of hummus. Trixie had one of Ziggy’s mother’s cookbooks.”

“But…”

“If you don’t eat it the kids will be disappointed. Stop arguing with me.”

“I have engine grease all over my hands, though.”

“We’ll stop at the bathroom so you can wash them, you’re still eating something healthy.”

* * *

 

There was hummus. The kids didn’t even give them chips, just cut vegetables, which Robbie peered at suspiciously until Sportacus kicked him in the ankle. Everything tasted eerie and off-kilter without processed sugar, but he had to admit that it wasn’t actually _awful._

Of course, when he was still chewing his last mouthful of sandwich, Sportacus said, “Stephanie tells me we have to go on a date.”

Once he’d finished choking and Sportacus was no longer pounding on his back, Robbie coughed out, “Stephanie told you _what?_ ”

“She threatened me, actually. Did you know she’s a menace?”

“Yes, I, uh, hear she gets it from her father.” Robbie gulped down a mouthful of juice, wincing as he had to suppress another cough. “Milford tells me he’s an Olympic gold medalist in pentathlon.”

“It figures.” Sportacus stared moodily into his juice. “She has a whole checklist. Anyway. She said, and I quote, ‘you can’t just _tell_ him, you have to _ask_ him out,’ so. Do you want to go on a date with me.”

Even with Sportacus sounding desperately uncomfortable, Robbie blushed. “I would love to.”

“Ok, good, because I wasn’t sure what to do if you said no.”

“I, uh.” This was going to be humiliating. Sportacus was going to laugh at him. “I _should_ tell you that I have no idea how to proceed from here, so I’m hoping either that _you_ do or that the checklist is very thorough.”

Sportacus blinked. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Sportacus, I’ve never _been_ on a date. I’ve never even _kissed_ anyone.”

“Why _not?_ ”

“This may have escaped your notice, but mechanics who sleep on park benches and spend all their time hanging out with grade schoolers aren’t really desirable romantic prospects.”

“That’s not even _true,_ I know for a fact that Trixie’s mother’s made a run at you at _least_ six times just since _I_ got here.”

“I…” A number of pieces fell into place in his mind. “Wait, _that’s_ what she was doing? I’d _wondered_ why she kept sending Trixie to play in the park whenever I came over to fix something, normally the kids love watching me work.”

“How do you think _I_ heard about it? Trixie was pretty annoyed, it wasn’t hard to figure out. I’d figured you were…” Sportacus wiggled his eyebrows.

 _It would explain why I kept catching her when she was doing laundry and had to wear that shirt that was missing half the buttons._ “No, never.”

“Not even one kiss. _One._ ”

“Not even that, who’d _want_ to? I don’t have very good breath, as you’ve always been happy to remind me of.”

“ _I_ want to! I knew I was smarter than most people, but I didn’t know most people were _that_ stupid.” Robbie felt his face go hot, but Sportacus didn’t seem to notice. “I know what I did the _last_ time I went on a date with someone, I took him to see some wrestling and then we broke into a sporting goods store and played hockey on the roof, but that doesn’t seem like something you’d like.”

Robbie couldn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure his throat was working.

“Rivet?” Sportacus snapped his fingers in front of Robbie’s face. “You ok?”

“Yes! Yes. Sorry. Just…processing.”

“Processing _what?_ ”

“You…want to kiss me. Actually. You’re not just saying this and it’s going to turn out to be a joke later and you laugh.” It was much easier to imagine Sportacus laughing at him than it was to imagine being kissed by _anyone._

Sportacus rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna believe me unless I actually _do_ it, aren’t you?”

“I mean. Empirical evidence is very comfort—oh, you’re grabbing now, this is where it turns out you were jok— _mm._ ”

The spikes on Sportacus’ bracers poked into Robbie’s chest, but it didn’t actually hurt, or if it _did_ hurt Robbie didn’t notice. Kissing was happened, it involved him, it involved him _and Sportacus_ and also Sportacus’ tongue, of which he was so powerfully aware at that moment that he felt it counted as a separate entity. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he put them on Sportacus’ shoulders, which seemed appropriate.

After what was either a couple of minutes or several decades, Sportacus sat back and said, “You still think I’m joking?”

“Your hat fell off,” Robbie said breathlessly. “You have very nice hair. Also did you know you taste like apples?”

“I’m gonna take that as a, ‘yes, Sportacus, I understand that you’re not joking now and also you’re very handsome and good at everything.’”

“That’s an appropriate interpretation.” Robbie blushed again, scratching at the back of his head. “I suspect _I_ didn’t make a very good showing.”

“Eh.” Sportacus shrugged. “First time for everything. Just takes practice.”

Robbie felt slightly faint. “Practice?”

Sportacus’ eyes gleamed wickedly. “We can come up with a whole exercise program if you like.”

Robbie felt even fainter. “Maybe…after our date?”


	2. Hurricane Pinky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we discover not one, but two alleged “adults” who have absolutely no idea how to dress up.

“Did you _ask_ him?”

Sportacus took a step back. “I _told_ you I did! You think I’m going to lie to you?”

She squinted up at him. “No, but I _do_ think you’d try to get around telling me things. Grown-ups do that all the time. So did he say yes?”

“Did he say—obviously he said yes, what else would he have said?”

“He _could_ have said no.”

“Your lack of confidence in me is really disturbing, you know that?”

She sniffed. She actually _sniffed._ It was infuriating. It was the most arrogant thing he’d ever seen. He was going to get her an outfit that matched his and teach her everything he knew. “It’s not that I don’t have confidence in _you,_ it’s just that sometimes Robbie isn’t very good at understanding when nice things are actually happening. So _when_ is it? Is it tomorrow?”

“It’s tomorrow—how did _you_ know?”

“Because when we were writing the checklist we figured tomorrow would be good because it’s not a school night, so we can make you dinner. Ziggy’s mom is going to help us make low-fat chicken parmesan, and we’re going to make a pavlova for dessert because we found a diabetic-friendly recipe that doesn’t use any sugar so you can have some.”

“I…you…ok?”

“Where are you going after dinner? There’s a science exhibition at the museum over in Mayhem Town, he’d like that. Or there’s a dance thing, he likes dancing.”

Sportacus blinked. “Robbie can dance?”

“Yeah! Slow dances, mostly. It’s practically the _only_ moving-around thing he likes.” She reached into her coat pocket. He half-expected her to pull out a gun and launch into a speech about what she’d do to him if he hurt Robbie’s _feelings,_ but it was just a pair of flyers. “You should decide on which one today so you can tell him, then he’ll have time to pick out clothes. He takes his clothes very seriously.”

“Obviously dancing, you think I’m gonna sit through some nerd thing?”

“I figured. What are _you_ gonna wear?”

“I only _have_ one outfit. Well, I have three, but they’re all the same.”

“Well, _that’s_ not going to work. We’ll have to get you an outfit from someone else.”

“Stephanie. I’m several inches shorter than every other man in this town except your uncle. Now.” He crouched so he could look her directly in the eye. “Please let me look at that checklist.”

“ _No,_ if I give it to you then you’ll try to skip things.”

“You’ve got everything very planned out for me, don’t I get to know?”

“It’s not _that_ detailed. We just watched a lot of movies for research. You have dinner with him at five, and you _have_ to bring him flowers, then at six you go to wherever you’re going and you have an hour and a half there, because you have to be able to invite him to the airship for a nightcap, which Ms. Busybody said is a kind of cracker? You have crackers, right?”

Sportacus stifled a cough. “Ah…yes. Yes, I. I have some crackers.”

“Good, because I _know_ you always go to bed at eight after eight, and it seems like half an hour is enough to have crackers, right?” Her forehead wrinkled. “They must be really nice crackers, what are they like?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older. A lot older. They’re only for adults.”

“Ok. Then the last thing is you give him a good night kiss, but you can skip that one if you want, kissing is _nasty._ ” She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, looking as serious as he’d ever seen her look. “Did you get all that?”

He nodded, very slowly. “I understand. Now, can I tell you something very important?”

“Sure, ok.”

“If you or any of the others _follow_ us after dinner, I’ll have all your parents install bars on your windows and combination locks on your doors.”

* * *

 

Robbie woke suddenly and couldn’t figure out why until he realized that his phone was ringing. Picking it up was sort of a process—he pulled the lever on his chair too quickly, almost catapulting himself across the room, and then fumbled the receiver three times before managing to get it to his ear. “Hello?”

_“Robbie, Pixel and I are coming down there. Are you dressed?”_

“Stephanie?” He rubbed at his eyes, hoping that he was just having auditory hallucinations because he hadn’t quite woken up yet. “Yes, I fell asleep in my clothes, why are you—?”

 _“Good.”_ There was a click as she hung up the phone.

Barely a minute later he heard a pair of _thumps_ as two small bodies dropped down into his house—from the sound of it, they’d used the entry shaft near the mayor’s house. He tried to get the yawns out of his system before they saw him, although of course he was yawning rather vastly just as they came into sight.

Stephanie didn’t even seem to notice. “Sportacus is going to take you to that dancing thing in Mayhem Town you had a flyer for, what are you going to wear?”

He stared blearily at her. “Stephanie, I don’t know what to wear on a date, I haven’t needed an outfit that wasn’t my normal clothes or a disguise for _years._ Why are you waking me up?”

“Because it’s _important._ ” He realized, as he stared at her, that she actually looked _worried._ “I want you to have a nice _time_ and none of the movies we watched were very clear about what parts of the date are required and which are optional.”

“It’s true.” Pixel waved the little hand computer he’d brought with him. “I ran a statistical analysis on all of them, they’re pretty vague. Like, we watched fifteen movies, and dinner came up in _most_ of them except for _these_ three, and dancing’s in ten of them but people _complain_ about it in five, and less than half of them have that crackers thing, so you’d _think_ it’s not important, but the ones that _do_ have it make it sound like the _most_ important thing.”

Robbie stared at them and decided not to ask about the crackers. “I’m not sure what you’re saying here.”

“You need nice outfits.” Nothing was going to stop Hurricane Stephanie. “Do you still have that one you wore when you were pretending to be a businessman? With the lavender shirt and the gray jacket and the little pink thing with your initials on it?”

“…the pocket square? Um. I mean, I know I have it somewhere, I never throw away disguises. I work hard on those, and it would be a waste of good material. Is that a date outfit?”

“According to my calculations, yes.” Pixel grinned at him. “I can iron it for you if you want, I made a machine for Dad to use when he goes to conferences that’ll do it in five minutes flat.”

“Pixel Packet, you’re a man after my own heart. I would adopt you if I didn’t like your fathers so much.” _Mama would probably be thrilled to have an official grandchild. Although then of course she’d probably try to talk him into making some sort of device to help her rob jewelry stores more efficiently._

Pixel shuffled his feet and blushed. Stephanie, meanwhile, had actually calmed down enough to look with interest at the display tubes where Robbie _kept_ some of his disguises. “How long does it take you to _make_ one of those?”

He shrugged. “Oh, maybe an hour at most.” Her amazed stare was very gratifying. “Why? I thought you said the gray suit was just fine.”

“It _is,_ but _Sportacus_ has three copies of that _one_ outfit and nothing else. Can you make him something to wear?” She looked nervous but hopeful. “Then you can decide on something _you_ think he’d look good in.”

Robbie’s first thought was, _What **would** he look good in?_ The next was _absolutely nothing except a smug expression. And maybe that stupid collar._ And then, _the children are staring at me. They can never know._ “I have a few ideas.”

“Awesome!” She actually hopped with delight. “Pixel scanned him when he wasn’t looking, so we can give you his measurements—”

“Oh, don’t worry about those, I already have them.”

Now Stephanie and Pixel were _really_ staring. Pixel said, very slowly, “Do I _wanna_ know why?”

“Well, if you recall, I’ve spent the last year or so trying to run him out of town before he got one of you killed, and sometimes that took specialized equipment that I needed him to fit inside.” And at one point a perfect robotic _replica_ of him that had a better personality and an actual concept of safety, but Robbie had only gotten it halfway done before finding that it was too…awkward to work on.

A terrible thought occurred to him.

“Where _is_ he?”

“Oh, we had Trixie distract him.”

“You left _Trixie_ with him? Distract him with _what?_ ”

Stephanie scratched her head. “I think they were talking about setting up a trapeze so that Sportacus could show her some cool flips?”

The bottom dropped out of Robbie’s stomach, and he was on his feet in seconds without any fumbling at all. “ _That_ sounds like a recipe for disaster, we’re going up there immediately, I can make an outfit for him later.”

* * *

 

Not long after dinner that evening, Stingy found Sportacus near the lake and handed him…a garment bag. He stared at it. “Stingy, what is this?”

“It’s clothing for you. For tomorrow.” Stingy glanced over at the hole in the ice, now blocked off by barriers and warning signs, and then fixed Sportacus with the sternest glare he was capable of. Which was, Sportacus had to admit, surprisingly stern for a nine-year-old. “I pressed it myself, Pixel wanted to use his _machine_ on it but I wouldn’t let him. If you get it dirty I’ll be _very_ unhappy.”

Sportacus stared at the garment bag. It was pale purple. _Did **Robbie** make this? How does he have my measurements? **Why** does he have my measurements?_ “Stingy, I don’t need this, I’m just going to wear my normal clothes.”

“Yes, Stephanie thought you’d say that. She asked me to tell you that she’s already drafted a letter to your mother. I may include a strongly-worded _note,_ that’s _very_ good fabric.” He paused and adjusted his bow tie. “Actually, I need to write her a note anyway to thank her for the driving gloves. Your mother is very nice. I might as well also tell her that you don’t respect good tailoring.”

“Is there something in the _water_ in this town that makes all you kids into blackmailers?”

“Nope.” Stingy beamed at him. “Just fluoride. We learned most of our best intimidation techniques from you.”


	3. Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world doesn’t explode. Actually, it goes pretty well.

At some point in the middle of dinner—in Stingy’s parents’ company dining room, served by Stingy himself in a little waiter outfit while in the kitchen Trixie shouted gleefully in broken French—Robbie realized that he was actually enjoying himself. It was his second meal in two days that didn’t include any processed sugars, which was still very strange, but he had to admit that it _was_ better than any Italian take-out he’d ever eaten. As long as he ignored the noise (clattering, banging, Stingy’s scandalized cry of, “Ziggy, you need to wash your _hands!_ ”), it was almost like being at a restaurant.

And Sportacus had brought him flowers. Nobody had ever given him flowers before.

Sportacus said, “You’re staring at me.”

“Ah. Yes.” Robbie coughed. “It’s just that this is very nice, you see, and I feel very happy, and normally that means something terrible is going to happen.”

“Well, if something terrible happens I’ll punch it.” Sportacus ate a mouthful of chicken and made a pleased humming sound. “The kids are surprisingly good cooks.”

“Stephanie and Stingy are good at following recipes, and they all make a game of it.” Robbie looked around the spotless room. “I was going to say that it was nice of the Spendthrifts to let them use the company dining room to do this for us, but it occurs to me that they’re _also_ out to dinner tonight, so I have no idea whether or not they actually know what’s going on. Although if I know Stingy, this place is going to be sparkling five minutes after we’ve left anyway.”

“Yeah, probably. Cleanest kid I’ve ever met.” Sportacus took a sip of his drink—sparkling grape juice, which Stephanie had very seriously informed them was the closest thing she could get to _any_ kind of wine—and then paused. “Look, can I ask you a question?”

“…yes?”

“What do you actually _do?_ You keep saying you’re a mechanic, but nobody ever _pays_ you for any of the repairs you do. And then there are all the robots and devices and outfits made out of _very_ nice fabric…” Sportacus plucked at his shirt collar, almost like he was nervous. “What I’m asking is, look, are you independently wealthy or just absurdly lucky?”

Robbie suppressed the urge to laugh. “I _am_ a mechanic. I get the money from my mother.”

“Is she some kind of royalty?”

“She’s an internationally wanted jewel thief. I think there’s a special Andrá Glæpur squad at Interpol. Don’t look at me like that, it made careers day at school very awkward. Anyway, she’s always been very disappointed that I didn’t go into the family business.”

Sportacus gaped at him. “Why _didn’t_ you?”

“Because I _like_ people. And I like machines. Which makes Papa happy, at least, even if he’s always going on about how making mischief is a family tradition and he’s sad that it’s going to die out in his line.” Robbie smiled. “Besides, if I’d decided to go into the family business then I wouldn’t have met you. Which I _do_ have mixed feelings about, but I think on the whole I’m glad.” He took another bite of chicken. “You look very nice.”

“I always look nice,” Sportacus said, not sounding entirely confident in the statement. Then he tugged at his shirt collar again, despite the fact neither it nor the next button on the shirt were done up. “How did you have my measurements? Did Pixel _scan_ me or something?”

“ _I_ scanned you. Ages ago. Remote-controlled shoes and custom-fitted cannons don’t just appear out of thin air, you know.”

Sportacus coughed. “Well. Thank you, these clothes are very comfortable. You also look nice. I liked that outfit the first time, it’s better without the fake mustache and the monocle.”

Robbie beamed at him.

From the kitchen they heard Ziggy whisper, loudly, “Can we bring them dessert yet, huh?”

Sportacus visibly stifled a laugh, and Robbie had to bite down hard on the urge to snort. “I think maybe we should finish this up, the natives are restless.”

* * *

 

Robbie was actually a good dancer.

Sportacus wasn’t entirely sure why he was surprised. Stephanie had _told_ him Robbie liked to dance; he supposed he just hadn’t quite been able to believe her. And now here he was, in the Mayhem Town Opera House, _waltzing_ with _Robbie Rivet_ while a mildly confused string quartet played something that sounded suspiciously like “I Put A Spell On You.” They didn’t even stand out, except inasmuch as their dress clothes were slightly nicer than those of the other dancers.

“Why is it so _crowded_ here?” he murmured during a turn. “Not that dancing is bad, but I never thought it was this popular.”

“It’s almost Christmas. People get sentimental around Christmas.”

“There isn’t mistletoe, is there? I don’t kiss in public. It’s bad enough that I’m letting you _lead—_ ”

“We only have to have one more dance after this one. Pixel tells me that they budgeted an hour and a half for this in that checklist of theirs, but I think they’ve really overestimated my ability to function in crowded rooms.” Robbie grinned, and Sportacus noticed that he did have a faint anxious glint in his eyes. “Honestly I’d say we should leave now, but I think they’re going to play a tango next, I love tango.”

As he was saying that, the song ended, and the quartet began another, which sounded suspiciously like “Hey Ya.” Sportacus raised an eyebrow. “So we’re going to dance this one tango and then you want to leave?”

“Yes.” They swung out onto the dance floor. “I’m actually having a very nice time, you understand, this is really lovely and I’m incredibly happy, but there are a _lot_ of people here and it’s terrifying.”

Sportacus looked up at him, smiling and looking nervous and dancing with more grace than he ever did anything else, and was seethingly angry about how handsome he looked. “I know somewhere else we can go, I was going to suggest it before Hurricane Pinky struck.”

“Somewhere else sounds good,” Robbie said brightly, and dipped him. “This was a bad idea, I don’t think I’m actually strong enough to hold you up. Are muscles heavy? I think muscles are heavy.”

Sportacus grinned up at him. “If you drop me I’m going to be unhappy, it’d be very difficult to catch myself at this angle.”

They stood back up straight with some difficulty and Robbie said, “Let’s go somewhere else. Somewhere else sounds wonderful.”

“Your coat’s pretty warm, right?”

* * *

 

The airship took them up higher than Robbie had ever gone before, and farther from either Lazy Town _or_ Mayhem Town than he’d expected. It wasn’t a _long_ flight, but despite that he had to spend the whole thing huddled against the back wall of the cabin, as far from the gondola windows as possible. “How do you _live_ being this high up? Don’t you worry about this thing _crashing?_ ”

“Wouldn’t say I _worry._ Risk is what makes life fun. More risks you take, the more fun it is.”

“That’s…that’s not a very good attitude for your health. You’re going to get yourself killed someday.”

“Maybe.” Sportacus glanced back at him, eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the long northern night. “But not in the airship. Not since you’ve worked on it. You keep it in better shape than I ever did by myself.”

“I’d be incredibly flattered if I wasn’t terrified right now.”

“Rivet, I’m _trying_ to flatter you. And anyway, we’re here, you should stand up.”

Robbie picked himself up nervously, adjusting his coat, and frowned when he realized that he didn’t recognize _anything_ he could see through the window. “Where _are_ we?” There was a cold gust of wind as soon as he stepped out into the platform, and he shied back towards the cabin.

“Hornbjarg.” Sportacus held out his hand. “Come on, I brought the ship down so you can step off instead of using the ladder.”

“The _mountain?_ We’re on top of a _mountain?_ ” He was going to freeze up at any moment. And Sportacus had turned off the ship’s external lights, for some reason; he could fall at any moment if he looked away from his feet. “Why are we—”

Sportacus elbowed him. “Don’t look down, look _up._ ”

Shaking, Robbie lifted his face. “Look—oh. Oh, how did I miss those when we were flying?”

“Well, you spent a lot of time looking at the floor and basically no time looking at the window.”

The Northern Lights were out in glorious force and the night was full of green fire edged with violet, like a flamenco dancer twirling in the clouds.

“Normally I climb here, but I didn’t think you’d like that, and the airship is quicker.”

Robbie stared upwards, breathtaken. “They’re so _bright._ I’ve never seen them this bright.”

“Light pollution. Comes of living in towns with electric lighting. Move to a valley in the middle of nowhere like where I grew up, then you see ‘em better.” Sportacus paused. “Or don’t, that place is so dull that it should be illegal. Come on, there’s a spot where we can sit.”

* * *

 

They sat on a ledge side by side, their legs hanging down, and after one initial protest Robbie didn’t even complain about how high up they were. Instead he just leaned against Sportacus’ side, cheek resting on top of his head, watching the Lights with such concentration that it seemed like he was waiting for them to tell him something. It was difficult to stay still, not to mention sort of irritating, but Sportacus was fairly sure that if he moved Robbie would be upset with him, and for once that actually seemed like a real concern.

Also unusually, it was hard for him to think of something to say. He blamed the Lights.

Robbie said, softly, “What made you think of this?”

“I like it here.” He let out a huff that clouded the air for a moment. “And Ziggy was going on and on about how you take them stargazing on that little thingy you built on top of the town hall, so I thought maybe it’d be something we’d _both_ like.”

“I do. Um, it is. I like it. It’s beautiful.”

“Did you know that Ms. Busybody told the kids that a nightcap is a kind of cracker?”

Robbie made a sort of choking noise. “ _That’s_ what Pixel meant when he mentioned a crackers thing? I mean it’s probably better than them knowing what it _actually_ means, I’d rather they _didn’t_ start contemplating alcohol, I have enough trouble keeping them in one piece as it is. But maybe I should talk to their parents about the movies they’ve been watching. No more rom-coms for a while.”

“Did you _see_ the schedule?” Sportacus shuddered. “They made a spreadsheet. It was in fifteen-minute increments, with color-coding. There were notes on it in crayon.”

“I’m…sort of relieved that I didn’t.” Robbie shifted, and Sportacus could feel his face move—he was smiling. “Although, if you _would_ like to come back to my house for a bit, I do have cream. Specially ordered.”

“Eh?”

“ _Organic_ cream, in a glass bottle, from what I’ve been assured was a particularly fat, self-satisfied cow. I believe it was fed apples, although I’m pretty sure that doesn’t affect the flavor at all.”

Sportacus grinned. “Does it have sugar in it?”

Robbie made an amused _hff_ noise. “No, of course not.”

“It feels wrong for you to just _offer_ it to me, it’s not as much fun if I’m not just breaking into your house and taking it out of your fridge.”

“Well, if you like I can go in first and you can pretend to break in. I can even sit in my chair, act like I’m asleep, and then wake up and be horrified.”

Sportacus let out a theatrical sigh. “It’s not the _same._ But yes, I would like that.”

“Also the kids won’t be expecting it so they probably won’t be watching my house, I get the impression that we’ve gone severely off-schedule.” There was a hesitant shift, and then Robbie’s hand crept forward and wrapped around his. “But I’d like to stay here for a little bit longer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: The fabulous Celepom on Tumblr has done a really beautiful page of the dancing scene! [You should definitely take a look at it because I'm in love.](http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/155882868932/mandated-dancing-by-sally-vinter-sketch-lines)

**Author's Note:**

> Share and enjoy, and leave me a comment if you liked the story. Merry Christmas, happy Hannukah, joyous Yule, and io Saturnalia to you all. <3


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